


Christmas 1981

by nightswatch



Series: A Series of Christmases [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Christmas, M/M, Post-First War with Voldemort, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been nearly two months since the end of the war. Remus is fine. (Or so he tells everyone.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas 1981

**Author's Note:**

> There are mentions of canonical character deaths, but they aren't directly described in the fic.

_Don’t look at the Shack_ , Remus tells himself. _Don’t even look in the vague direction of the Shack_. He takes a deep breath. If he glances to the left, he’ll see it and he really has no idea what will happen when he does. He won’t cry. He keeps promising himself that one thing. He won’t cry.

Remus clenches his hands into fists in the pockets of his coat. He has no idea why Dumbledore has asked him to come here, today of all days. It’s Christmas Eve, snow is falling and the cold wind is making Remus’ face hurt.

He slowly walks towards the gates of Hogwarts, eyes fixed on the Gryffindor Tower, his mind carefully blank. He won’t think of the seven years he spent in that tower, he won’t think of the people he spent those seven years with. They’re all dead now. Or as good as. Remus’ fingers dig into his palms. He won’t cry.

Remus tears his eyes off the tower and slowly makes his way up to the castle, only briefly glancing at the group of students who are having a loud and cheerful snowball fight. During the last few weeks, Remus has mastered the art of thinking of nothing at all. Keeping his mind blank is the only thing that keeps him going these days.

Dumbledore had a lot to say after what happened on Halloween, but none of his words meant anything to Remus. They still don’t mean a thing. They need to keep going, even after all that’s happened, because that’s all they can do. They should be proud of themselves for what they accomplished, they should go out and live their lives because now they finally can. Except that Remus doesn’t feel like he has a life anymore. His life, for the last two months, has been a tiny room above Ollivander’s, and him, on his own, trying to lock away all his memories.

Things are what they are, but Remus can’t quite wrap his head around them. He doesn’t understand and he’s not really sure if he ever will. He wants Dumbledore to explain, Dumbledore always has the answers, or so Remus used to think.

As Remus steps into the Entrance Hall, he realises how stupid he was to come here. It takes him a moment to talk himself out of turning around and leaving again. He must look pretty ridiculous, standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall, the snow on his boots melting and dripping onto the ancient stones, leaving behind a small puddle when he finally forces himself to move. Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone around to witness his moment of utter confusion.

The corridors, too, are deserted as he goes up to Dumbledore’s office. It’s not surprising; Remus assumes that most students went home for the holidays, and the ones who are left are probably either involved in the snowball fight outside or curled up next to a fireplace in their common rooms.

In any case, it doesn’t matter this year. People are safe, wherever they spend Christmas. People don’t have to hide in their homes anymore, Diagon Alley has been more crowded than Remus has ever seen it during the past few weeks, people stop to talk to each other in the street, they smile, they laugh. Remus wishes he could be one of them, but he doesn’t feel like laughing, not yet. He’s not sure if there’ll ever be a time when he really feels like laughing again. Right now it seems outright impossible.

Remus mutters the password to the gargoyle in front of Dumbledore’s office and lets the staircase carry him upstairs. He’s not in a hurry, in fact, he’s right on time, despite his little crisis in the Entrance Hall. Remus knocks and Dumbledore calls him inside immediately.

Dumbledore’s office is decorated, much like the rest of the castle, with tiny floating lights and holly. A fire is burning in the chimney while snow piles up on the windowsill behind Dumbledore’s desk.

Professor Dumbledore smiles at him when he enters. “Remus,” he says, “it’s good to see you. Have a seat.”

Remus does as he’s told, but he doesn’t offer a greeting. He’s had it with these meetings in Dumbledore’s office. He wasn’t planning on ever coming back here, at least not until a few days ago when he received Dumbledore’s invitation to come to Hogwarts for tea. If Remus wasn’t sure that Dumbledore would just keep inviting him in the most persistent ways until Remus finally accepted his invitation, he certainly wouldn’t have come here today.

“Tea?” Dumbledore asks.

Remus nods and mumbles a thank you when Dumbledore sets down a cup of tea in front of him.

“Biscuits?”

Remus shakes his head, but Dumbledore still procures a plate with biscuits from somewhere. “Sir…”

“How have you been?” Dumbledore asks before Remus can even form a question.

_What do you think?_ Remus wants to say. “I’m fine,” is what he ends up saying in the end. It’s what he told Alastor Moody when he ran into him on his way through the Leaky Cauldron a week ago and it’s what he tells all former Order members when he comes across them. It’s easier that way.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Sir…”

“You’re wondering why I asked you to come here today, I assume?” Dumbledore says, nodding to himself. “Well, Remus, I have to say, I’m a little worried.”

“You’re worried,” Remus repeats. “About…?” He already knows the answer, but he doesn’t feel too cooperative today. None of what happened is Dumbledore’s fault, of course, but Remus still wishes that he would just leave him alone.

“About you, Remus,” Dumbledore says.

Remus very much wants to tell him that he has absolutely no business being worried about him. He takes a deep breath. “I’m fine.”

Dumbledore almost looks amused now. “So you keep saying.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Remus stares back at Dumbledore defiantly. It reminds him of the last time he sat in this chair, back in November. “I really am fine,” Remus says, but this time it sounds like a lie even to him. Occasionally, he’s convinced that he really is fine, that he isn’t lying when he says it, but once he really thinks about it, he always realises that it’s not quite true.

“I’ve been told that Molly Weasley invited you over for Christmas dinner tonight,” Dumbledore says. “And you declined.”

“I did,” Remus says. He shouldn’t be surprised that Dumbledore is keeping tabs on him, but that doesn’t mean that he has to like it. Anyway, what if he did decline Molly’s invitation?

“Remus,” Dumbledore leans forward, his chin resting on his folded hands, “I know all of this must be unbelievably hard for you, but you–”

“I know,” Remus interrupts. He doesn’t really care about whether or not he’s being rude anymore. “I have to keep going, we all do. The world keeps turning, no matter what.”

Dumbledore nods; he doesn’t look offended. “What are you up to these days?” he asks conversationally.

“I’m mostly trying to find a job. Which I’m sure you know isn’t easy with my _condition_.”

“I just want you to remember that you still have friends who care about you,” Dumbledore says.

Remus hates the sad smile on Dumbledores’s face. He hates being here. He says nothing and slowly sips his tea.

“If you need help finding work, I’m sure I can help you out.”

“I’ll find something,” Remus says.

“You’re a very talented young man, Remus,” Dumbledore says. “There are many places that would be lucky to have you.”

“Well, a lot of people eventually notice that I’m absent once a month. Very regularly.” There’s no way he can drag himself anywhere the day after the full moon. The last ones were particularly vicious, the wolf wild and uncontrollable. He can’t see his situation changing any time soon.

“There is work that you can do on your own time, at home even.” Dumbledore tilts his head, as if he’s trying to see right through Remus. “More tea?” he asks.

“No, thank you.”

Dumbledore pours him more tea anyway. Remus should have expected as much. “Professor McGonagall tells me that you were thinking about becoming a teacher before you left Hogwarts?”

“I was,” Remus says. He doesn’t think he wants to become a teacher anymore.

“Maybe in a few years,” Dumbledore says, “we can have a talk about that option.”

“Yes, thank you,” Remus says. Maybe, if he stops fighting this, if he gives Dumbledore the satisfaction of having had a nice and productive talk with him, he’ll let him go home soon. “I really appreciate that you want to help me out, Sir. I’d just rather take care of it myself.”

“I expected no less.” Dumbledore leans back in his chair. “However, if you ever do feel like you need help, with finding work or anything else, you are always welcome here.”

“Thank you, Sir.” It should feel reassuring to know that Dumbledore is willing to help him out, but it somehow just makes Remus feel like he’s a child who can’t take care of things on his own.

“You’re also very welcome to stay for Christmas dinner,” Dumbledore says.

“No, I…” Remus wants to leave. He wants to leave and never come back. “I have plans.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, but Dumbledore nods anyway. “I see.”

Remus shifts in his chair. Since he’s here already, he might as well bring something up that they didn’t have much time to talk about last time. During the past few weeks, Remus has almost convinced himself that he needs to let it go, but now that he’s back here, it doesn’t seem so easy anymore. “Sir, have you thought about–”

“I have thought about what you said the last time you were here,” Dumbledore says, almost like he’s been waiting for Remus to bring it up. He sighs. “You’ve been through a lot, it’s only natural to try and find explanations for what happened.”

“I’m not just trying to find explanations,” Remus says, a little impatient. “Well, of course I want to know…” He bites his lip. He won’t cry. “I want to know why he… I want to know why.”

“There’s no way for you to contact him. And, if I may add, I don’t think that you should.”

“You don’t think I should try figure out why my…” Remus swallows down the word _boyfriend_. “Why my friend sold his best friend and his family out to Voldemort. Or why he killed…” He can’t say Peter’s name. “I just don’t understand. I want to know why he would do this, they must have… done something to him.”

“He wasn’t under the influence of the Imperius Curse,” Dumbledore says very slowly. “He didn’t defend himself.” He doesn’t tell Remus that he needs to accept that Sirius is guilty. He’s just going to bury him under facts, as he always does, and leave Remus to draw his own conclusions.

Remus swallows hard. When Dumbledore first told him what Sirius had done, Remus’ initial thought was _he wouldn’t_. It goes around in circles in his head if he doesn’t distract himself. _He wouldn’t. He would have rather died. Sirius would never to this, not to James, not to Lily. Not to Harry. Not to Peter. He wouldn’t._

“We knew that there was a spy in the Order,” Dumbledore says. Another fact.

“It wasn’t him,” Remus whispers, even though they know the truth now, they know that it was Sirius.

Remus is sure that he was a prime suspect as well, he’s the werewolf, after all, and of course he was suspicious, of course he watched everyone a bit more closely than before, and that included Sirius, but in the end he would have never thought that it was actually him.

“I know that he was one of your best friends,” Dumbledore says lowly, “I know that he meant a great deal to you, but we can’t deny the facts.”

“What if the facts are wrong?” Remus asks, a little more forcefully than he meant to.

Dumbledore doesn’t reply at first. The facts are what they are. Remus knows that, he’s just not ready to accept it. “Thinking that way,” Dumbledore eventually says, “will only make everything harder for you in the end.”

“Shouldn’t I have realised?”

“Blaming yourself won’t do any good either. Nobody knew. Nobody could have known.”

_But I loved him_ , Remus wants to say. He loved Sirius Black and he didn’t realise. He slept next to him at night and let Sirius kiss the freckles on his skin and they laughed and they talked about everything and nothing until the sun started to rise. Sirius was the one who held him when he couldn’t sleep and Sirius was the one who looked worried every time Remus stepped out the door and Sirius is the one who’s responsible for the death of Remus’ friends, the friends who knew the truth about him and accepted him anyway, Sirius’ friends, and it just doesn’t line up in his head. “I should have known,” Remus only says.

Dumbledore takes a sip of his tea, regarding Remus with a thoughtful expression. He isn’t sure if Dumbledore knew about him and Sirius. It doesn’t matter in the end, because it doesn’t change what Sirius did.

Nobody knew what they were. James didn’t know, Lily didn’t know, Peter didn’t know. They never found the right time to tell them and now it’s too late. If Remus makes an effort and tries to forget that he loved Sirius, it’ll be like they never happened. But it’s not what he wants, he doesn’t want to forget, what he wants is to _understand_.

Dumbledore won’t be able to help him in this case. Dumbledore wants him to move on. Because there is no way to explain this and not even the almighty Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of their time, has an explanation for why Sirius did what he did. _He wouldn’t_ , a small voice in the back of Remus’ head insists. He shakes his head at himself.

It’s true, he can’t keep going like this. He has to move on, one day, and maybe that day should be today. It’s Christmas and he’s alone, no matter how much Dumbledore insists that he isn’t. Remus _feels_ alone. Better get used to it. “I should go,” Remus says. “Thanks again.”

“If you do change your mind and need help finding a job, you know where to send your owl,” Dumbledore says. He shakes his hand before Remus leaves, wishes him good luck, and says they’ll see each other soon.

Remus sincerely doubts that they’ll see each other any time soon, but he nods anyway and then makes a quick escape. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate Dumbledore’s efforts, he just can’t bring himself to appreciate them _right now_.

His hopes of making it out of the castle quickly and, more importantly, undetected, dissolve when he nearly walks right into Professor McGonagall on his way back to the Entrance Hall.

“Lupin,” McGonagall says, not looking in the least surprised to see him here. “How are you?”

Remus chews on his bottom lip. Not this again. “I’m…” He doesn’t think he’s capable of saying _I’m fine_ again. He won’t cry.

For a terrifying moment, Remus thinks McGonagall might try to hug him, but in the end she pats his arm. She doesn’t say anything else, just wishes him a Merry Christmas, and Remus has never been more grateful in his life.

Once he’s reached the gates, Remus doesn’t go back to his tiny flat above Ollivander’s that he moved back into in November, he apparates to the street that Sirius used to live in. The street that Remus used to live in. It’s time now.

Snow is still falling and Remus tries not to think of the other Christmases, the ones he spent with Sirius, and James, and Peter, his happiest Christmases. He wants to remember them as they were, he doesn’t want them tainted by all the horrible things that happened since. He wants to remember shoving snow down James’ jumper, and he wants to remember Peter, smirking at him over breakfast because James and Sirius got detention for a prank that he and Remus pulled off, and he wants to remember fifteen-year-old Sirius Black falling asleep with his head in Remus’ lap on Christmas Eve, and the smile on his face when Remus ran his fingers through his hair, just for a moment.

Remus walks up the steps to Sirius’ old flat, their old flat, almost hoping that he won’t be able to get inside, but the lock clicks open at the touch of Remus’ wand, like it always did. He walks through the empty rooms in a daze. Remus received a note from the Ministry weeks ago. They took Sirius’ belongings, but everything that belongs to Remus is still there and he’s allowed to pick it up at his leisure.

He walks up the stairs and even though he knows that he shouldn’t, he sneaks a glance into Sirius’ old room, now empty. Remus’ own room is across the hall, and it’s exactly the way he left it. He has no doubt that the Ministry’s people were in here as well, but they apparently didn’t feel the need to take anything.

The bed is unmade. Remus remembers leaving, early in the morning of October 30th, Sirius next to him, his voice still thick with sleep when he told Remus to come back to bed, to stay a little while longer. Remus doesn’t dare think about what would have happened if he had, indeed, stayed a little longer, if he’d missed his appointment with Dumbledore’s contact, if he’d ended up spending Halloween at home, with Sirius. Would his name be just another one on the long list of lives this war had taken?

Remus sits down at the edge of the mattress, looking around his room, not sure what to take with him. There’s a jumper on the floor, a sock peeking out from under the bed, the chair by the window is buried under clothes. Remus frowns, not sure if he’s starting to lose it completely.

He stands up and slowly walks over to the chair, shoves away threadbare jumpers and shirts and his old Gryffindor scarf, and unearths a leather jacket, sixteen-year-old Sirius Black’s pride and joy, now old and worn. Remus doesn’t know how the Ministry’s people missed it.

Somehow it’s still there. It’s another one of those things that no one seems to have an explanation for. Another fact.

Remus’ fingers curl into the worn leather. Just this one time he doesn’t tell himself not to cry.


End file.
